Six Years
by Potion
Summary: Even six years after her death, Kate Todd is still very much present in the lives of her teammates. -- A small collection of oneshots set six years after Twilight about Team Gibbs, including Ziva, and how they remember Kate.
1. Tony

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
A/N: This will have seven chapters: Tony, Gibbs, Abby, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, and Jimmy (although not necessarily in that order). I have most of them done, so this should be finished soon. Hopefully, I didn't butcher anything; please, tell me what you think.

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**Six Years: Tony.**

In his living room, Tony has a table covered in picture frames.

There's one of him and his parents, taken years ago, back when everything was all smiles and laughter. He's in between the two of them, his arm around his mother's waist and his father's arm around his shoulders. They're standing in front of his parents' house in the sunshine, the wind blowing his hair to the side. He doesn't exactly like the picture - it's not a good one of him - but it's the only one of the three of them where they actually look _happy._

There's one of him and Abby from only a few months after he joined the team. They're standing in her lab, with Bert in the background, and she's smiling so big he swears he can see every tooth in her head. He's got a hand around her shoulders and is pushing her close to him, until one of her pigtails is tickling the base of his neck. He's grinning into the camera, but his eyes are aimed downwards towards her; her eyes are closed, squeezed shut by her gigantic smile.

He has one of him and McGee at the annual Christmas party. McGee looks unsure, nervous, and out of place. Tony's standing beside him, a Santa hat only halfway on his head and forcing a beer bottle into McGee's hand. His other hand is in the younger man's hair, ruffling it slightly. They're both facing the camera, McGee with a small, toothless smile on his face and Tony with a mischievous, toothy grin.

Behind that is a picture of him and Gibbs. The pair are side by side, barely close enough to touch. Tony has his trademark grin on his face, seemingly unaware that Gibbs is simply drinking his coffee.

Next is a picture of Ziva. She's glaring at him from her desk, holding up a paperclip in warning. Her mouth is open slightly as she starts to yell. She doesn't like her picture taken.

The last frame is empty. It's a red, wooden frame, taller than it is wide, a black stand keeping it up. But behind the glass there is nothing but white. He had seen a frame a lot like it in Kate's apartment once; he thought it would only be fitting to put a picture of her in a frame a lot like one she had had. It wasn't until after he bought the frame that Tony realized he had never gotten a picture with her - the only one he had of her was from her wet t-shirt contest, and he kept that in a special box in his closet. He couldn't quite bring himself to put it out for the world to see.

So he keeps the frame in front and center of his small table, a constant reminder of the team member he will never be able to spend time with again.


	2. Ducky

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything, sorry.  
A/N: Thanks to everyone for the positive reviews! I'm glad you liked the first chapter, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint, either. (:

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**Six Years: Ducky.**

Being a coroner and as old as he was, death was nothing new to Dr. Mallard. There was a different body on his table nearly every day, and rarely did they ever have a heartbeat.

He was good at his job; he could determine a cause of death with barely any effort and he could use his, albeit limited, profiling skills to get himself away from any dead ends. He made careful incisions. He followed all of the rules set up for him. He made sure the women weren't exposed and that everyone got the respect they deserved. He took care of their things, assuring that they got back where they belonged, whether it be a parent or a sibling or a fiance.

That being said, in all his years as a medical examiner, Ducky only stole something from a dead person once.

It had been in her pocket when they had brought her in. It hadn't surprised him - Kate had always kept it with her, whether it was in her purse or pocket or around her neck. It meant the world to her. He noticed that any time she got nervous or flustered, her hand would instinctively reach to touch it. It's very presence seemed to calm her down.

He had just wanted something to remember her by. He just wanted something that was completely and totally _her. _So he took it out of her pocket and slid it carefully into his when Jimmy wasn't looking.

It still hangs on the corner of his dresser, the gold chain wrapped loosely yet carefully around the wood. The cross shines in the morning as the sun floods through his window, and Ducky finds himself smiling every day when he gets up and looks at it. It reminds him of her, of her smile, of her quick comebacks, of her sparkling eyes, of her dedication. It makes him feel better to have it there with him. That one small piece of jewelry helps reinforce the feeling, the hope in him that Kate is still out there somewhere, gone but not forgotten, looking out for him - looking out for _all_ of them.

One time when he was feeling particularly guilty for taking it, Ducky went all the way to her grave. He spent hours talking to her, telling her about the way things had changed and how everybody was doing. He told her all about Ziva and how she had killed Ari. He told her all about the hardest cases they had had since her death, about all the ways she still finds a way to pop into their lives, about the Directors they'd been through since her death. When he had finished talking, he had pushed a small hole into the dirt, trying to get as close to her as he could - then he dropped the golden necklace into it, gently pushing the dirt back into place.

Ducky had made it halfway back to his car before he felt tears stinging at his eyes. He had turned around, made his way skillfully back to Kate's grave, and taken the necklace back.

Now wasn't the time to apologize for taking it.

Ducky would let Kate know he was sorry for taking it later, when he saw her again - until then, he wasn't about to give up that last little piece of her he had left.


	3. Jimmy

Disclaimer: Still nothing.  
A/N: Sorry this one took so long; I had a major poetry project due. But now that's all out of the way... Enjoy!

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**Six Years: Jimmy.**

They really weren't all that close, and Jimmy knows it.

They had barely ever even spoken to each other. They never hung out after work. They never went out for drinks or dinner, and really, even during work they didn't talk all that much. She was either in the field or he was down in the autopsy room. They spoke about cases and occasionally made small talk, but that was it. He doesn't even know her middle name.

That doesn't change the small ache in his heart whenever he sees a woman around her age on Ducky's table. That doesn't make the images of Kate's dead body leave his brain any faster. That doesn't help keep his hands from shaking.

Jimmy knows he and Kate were never close. He knows that they probably never would have been. But there's just something about seeing her body on the table, someone he _knew,_ that won't leave his mind. He had seen her just hours before she was killed, and she was happy, smiling, _breathing. _He never would have imagined her dead - it wasn't the natural order of things. It wasn't her time.

The peaceful look on her face, ruined only by the single bullet hole between her eyes, flashes into his mind every time a woman ends up on that cold metal table. Kate's face replaces the corpse's, and she's all he can see for the rest of the day.

And that's something that will stick with him forever.


	4. McGee

Disclaimer: Still, I don't own anything.  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has left a review; they really mean a lot to me. (: Here's McGee's chapter - I hope I was able to keep it in line with the show. I'm not entirely what all has been said about his stories, so.. Well, anyway, enjoy!

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**Six Years: McGee**

McGee sighed, carefully placing the paper onto the pile. Writing was usually something easy for him to do - press the pen to the paper and let the words flow. Writing was fun, he liked it, and it came easily to him. Usually.

He had been working on this story for a little over six years now. He couldn't get an idea of a plot in his head, nor could he draw up an outline, and just letting the words flow sure as hell wasn't working for him. Just as he always based his characters on people he knew, McGee wanted to make a story around Kate - something that was becoming no easy feat. He found himself remembering new things about her as the years dragged on, whether from videos they'd taped or from some untapped place in his memory. Other things he couldn't find that he remembered so well, like what kind of comebacks she would always give Tony and the way she looked at him or Tony or Gibbs. He couldn't remember if she ever actually listened to Ducky's stories and he couldn't remember exactly what her reaction had been that one time that she had lost the coroner. It didn't matter how hard he racked his brain; McGee just couldn't remember.

He had about three tall stacks of failed attempts to get her character down and the story rolling. He had a relatively large pile of notes, too, every little thing that he remembered about her and that might prove to be relatively helpful somewhere down the line.

Despite the absolute failure of his project, he never gave up. McGee would get home after work, sit down at his laptop, and just type. Sometimes he stared at the blank Word document for what felt like years. Sometimes he typed and typed and typed until he had pages and pages, only to print them out and find so many errors in her character. It never felt like he was reading about Kate. It felt like he was reading about a stranger. And if he couldn't even tell it was supposed to be Kate, how could he expect anyone else to?

One day, he would get it right. One day, he would get it close enough to be acceptable as a worthy tribute to her life. One day, he would be able to read over the work he did and be proud, and know that she would be proud of him too.

McGee had no idea how far or how close 'one day' was. All he knew was that he was determined to keep trying until he reached it.


	5. Gibbs

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
A/N: Sorry that this one took so long! I was stuck on how to phrase everything for Gibbs, but I think I'm pretty satisfied with this. Abby will be next, because of how close they were, and then Ziva, because they didn't even know each other and so I thought it would be pretty interesting to end it with that sort of contrast. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

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**Six Years: Gibbs**.

He never looks at it.

Ziva gave it to him when she cleaned out Kate's desk and he kept it, but that was the last time he had looked at it. He keeps it safely tucked away in a drawer that never gets opened, with a bunch of other old things that he never takes the time to look at. It is in the middle of things that were once his wife's, things that were his parents', and things that were once his daughter's. It is over photo albums and baby blankets and baseballs and letters, tucked beside the dark wood of the dresser, and protected by a clear sleeve.

Gibbs doesn't think he'll ever look at it again.

It will stay there, amongst those other keepsakes, hidden but not forgotten. It will sit with his other memories, getting only a glance when the drawer is opened for another item to be placed alongside it. The pages will not be flipped through again, at least not by him; the sketches will not be admired. The caricatures that Kate had spent so much time on will not be exposed to the damaging effects of the outside world.

He's never been one that believed that memories needed items to accompany them. He had actually been close to throwing it away, or giving it to some other member of the team, or even her family. He didn't need the byproduct of one of her hobbies to remember her by. Those drawings would in no way reinforce his memories of her, or change his thoughts about her, or make him miss her anymore than he already does.

He thinks, sometimes, that it would have been better off with somebody else, somebody who would really enjoy it.

After all, he doesn't need it to remember her by.

So he almost decides to give it to somebody else. But as the days go by and he finds himself resting his hand on the handle of that old wooden dresser that had once belonged to his grandfather, Gibbs decides that he wouldn't give it up for the world. He knows that never looks at it, and chances are he never will.

But sometimes, it's just nice to know it's there.


	6. Abby

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.  
A/N: This one's short too, I know, but it didn't work the same when I tried to make it longer. It seemed too forced and not quite as.. real, I guess you could say. So, anyway, I hope you enjoy - Ziva's next, and then this little story is over!

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**Six Years: Abby.**

Abby remembers Kate every day.

It's hard for her to remember much else while she's changing or taking a shower; the carefully printed tattoo near her hip bone doesn't allow for much else to go through her brain. Her tattoos had always meant many different things to her. She got them for a reason, most of the time. They signified some sort of stage in her life, some sort of phase or milestone that she wanted to be able to remember for the rest of the time she was alive.

She and Kate had always been so different, yet so much alike. She is the gothic lab tech, while Kate was the Catholic government agent. She can be childish and overly emotional, but Kate was always mature and tended to keep her true emotions to herself. She is a caffeine addict, but Kate preferred her tea and hot chocolate.

They were like yin and yang in so many ways. And, just like the yin and yang symbol, they had their similarities.

They were both girls, of course, and they both enjoyed a girl's night in. And, although Kate probably never would have admitted it to most people, they both enjoyed a good girl's night _out_, too. They liked the same kind of movies, the same kind of drinks (Abby had always been surprised at how well Kate could hold her liquor -- it wasn't something she had expected), the same kind of food, and a lot of the same books. They could talk for hours about anything and everything and never get bored.

Abby remembers Kate every day as she looks at the black symbol that was carefully drawn into her skin years ago.

And every day, she wishes she had her yang back.


	7. Ziva

Disclaimer: Still not mine..  
A/N: And here we have our conclusion. This is Ziva's view on Kate, and I hope it isn't too out-there or out-of-character for any of you. Enjoy, and thank you all for reading! (:  


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**Six Years: Ziva.**

Ziva David had never met Kate. To her, Kate was the look in Tony's eyes when he looked at the desk across from him after a hard day at work. Kate was Gibbs' face when she started profiling a killer. Kate was the tone of Abby's voice when the goth brought up a 'girl's night'. Kate was Ducky's sad, remembering smile when anyone brought up anything Catholic. Kate was the way McGee tensed up when Ziva teased him in a way that she could only guess was similar to the way Kate used to.

Kate was the gun sitting on the top shelf of Ziva's closet.

Ziva didn't dislike Kate, nor did she like her; she had never met the woman. Her brother had made sure of that. But her teammates seemed to have loved Kate, and that made Ziva wish that the swelling anger in the pit of her stomach towards Kate didn't exist. It wasn't even like she had a _reason_ to be angry, at least not at Kate. It was all Ari's fault. Well, Mossad's, really. But she still worked for them - she couldn't think like that.

When Ziva first went into work and had to clean out Kate's desk, it had been simple. Routine, almost. Empty out the desk. Give Gibbs anything important. Keep any simple office supplies that might be needed (just so long as Tony or McGee didn't catch her). She ended up keeping white-out, a stapler, paperclips, a few pens, and a gun.

Ziva could only guess about why Kate kept a second gun. She figured it was a back-up. In which case, nobody else would need it. It was fair game.

She knew what she was going to do with it the moment she decided to keep it. She knew it was wrong, she knew it was twisted, and she knew that she was basically lying to herself. But it made her feel just a little bit better, and that little bit of comfort made it worth it.

So she slid it into her jacket, keeping it carefully concealed until it was time.

Then she slid it out, aimed it precisely -

And he was dead.

And she got what she wanted. She got mad at Kate. Mad because she left the gun. Mad because she had to die. Mad because she had to let _Ari_ kill her. Mad because she made Ziva feel weak. Mad because even using her gun to kill him couldn't make Ziva hate her.

When she thinks about Ari, sometimes Ziva pulls down the gun. That's when she remembers why - why she had to kill him, why the faces of her teammates were so thrilled, even though she had just killed her own brother. That's when she remembers how much of a monster he truly was. That's when she remembers that she didn't just help save Gibbs that day - she had helped Kate get even.

That's when she realizes that no matter who's gun it was, it doesn't change who pulled the trigger. Just because it was Kate's gun doesn't mean Ziva can blame it all on her.

Ziva wishes she could hate Caitlin Todd. But everytime she tries, she just ends up hating herself even more.

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End file.
